Monday, August 10, 2009

The Farmers Convenience Store. . . . Maricopa, Arizona

The Farmers Convenience Store and Restaurant is a little "hole in the wall" joint located off the beaten path south of Harrah’s Ak Chin Casino and west of SR347 at 49301 W Papago Rd., Maricopa, AZ 85139.

On weekends, this small store and parking lot turns into the local hub of the bottom feeders of civilization. Illegal aliens purchase phone cards and line up at the pay phones in front of the store. Some come here to sell. Others are here to buy. Many are visibly intoxicated. This venue would be perfect for a DUI checkpoint or crime suppression sweep.

“We will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.” --Alec Guiness, Star Wars 1977

There are times, I think I’m in some shady marketplace in Mogadishu, Somalia or some unwiped rectum of a city in India rather than rural western Pinal County, Arizona U.S.A. The collection of riff raff that hang out their shingles here sometimes amazes me. Occasionally, I walk through this makeshift bizarre just to see what sort of activities take place just over 1 mile from my home. As always, I ‘m packing a firearm.

Every weekend this swap meet/used car lot emerges from the dust and dirt along Papago Rd. It’s hard to find anybody here that speaks fluent English. An assortment of wares, mostly junk and whatever may have been plucked out of your front yard or driveway while you were at work is spread out across the ground for potential buyers to inspect. As cars and trucks stop, the air is filled with dust.

A chunky Mexican woman with an awful looking blonde dye job (Tell me she isn't ashamed of being Mexican.) and a face that looks as if it were chipped out of stone despite her wasted efforts to fill her craters with make up is frequently observed selling second hand merchandise on weekends. She is known as “Eva”.

I happen to see this same woman almost every Monday at the F.O.R. Food Bank in Maricopa. She has a bad habit of jumping the line, signing up multiple names and generally causing trouble. She is a rude and offensive woman worthy of no respect whatsoever. I think she is a witch. She was in a most unpleasant mood this morning when I took her picture. She got rather vocal with me and I called her “SCUM!” She drives a 1990’s Ford F-150 bearing AZ registration ACJ4422.

In addition to distributing food, F.O.R. regularly makes clothing and household items available to the needy. The people that donate these items expect them to be used by the needy, not sold for profit. I see this above mentioned woman accept many of these items only to see her putting them up for sale at the neighborhood swap meet the very next weekend. Not so needy is she?

The way I see it, she’s looking to line her pockets. These are the kinds of people that inhabit my neighborhood. Time and again, I will be pointing them out. Ignoring them, or looking the other way, is not part of my program. The neighborhood thieves, dope fiends, lowlifes and scofflaws need to be singled out, exposed and humiliated. This is yet another example of the perils of diversity and multiculturalism. These government enforced liberal policies are directly responsible for almost all of this country’s ills.

These very people and many more like them are the cause for the decline of our once great civilization. From splitting the atom and putting a man on the moon, we have gone from our “apex” to an all time low in only 40 years. In the future, the early 21st century will be remembered for decay, greed and self indulgence. People were more respectable and honorable during the Dark Ages. Those we leave this World to, will hate us for letting it happen.
A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and he carries his banners openly. But the traitor moves among those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the galleys, heard in the very hall of government itself. For the traitor appears not a traitor—he speaks in the accents familiar to his victims, and wears their face and their garment, and he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation—he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of a city—he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murderer is less to be feared. . . . .Cicero, 42 B.C.E.

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